


Nightcap

by frozen_delight



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Coda, Episode: s12e02 Mamma Mia, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Season/Series 12, Winchester Communications or Lack Thereof
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 04:59:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8358268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frozen_delight/pseuds/frozen_delight
Summary: It is what it is. Coda to 12x02 “Mamma Mia”.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hunenka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hunenka/gifts).



> For hunenka, wonderfully inspiring writer, reader and discussion partner. <333
> 
> Warnings: Spoilers for all aired episodes. Unbetaed, so apologies for any mistakes.

After poking his head first into Dean’s room, then the library, only to find them dark and deserted, Sam decided to try his luck in the kitchen.

Sure enough, he found Dean sitting in the tight space between the stove and the worktop, empty beer bottles scattered around him like vultures in a desert. Sam’s heart lurched at the sight. Only a few hours ago he’d believed Dean was dead.

Dean gazed up at him with murky eyes. He was still wearing his boots. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Sam tore his eyes away from Dean’s feet. His fingers itched to untie the laces. “You’re back, Mom’s back, I’m back…”

“Right? I told you we were due for a win!” Dean toasted him with a too wide smile.

Sam swallowed uneasily. The last time his brother had insisted they were due for a win, he’d been struggling with the Mark. He’d taken to sitting on the floor back then, too.

Unaware of the somber turn Sam’s thoughts had taken, Dean sucked the rim of his beer bottle into his mouth and released it again with a disgusting plop. A shiny fleck of spit lingered on his lower lip. Sam thought of Mom’s wide eyes when Dean had started gobbling down her pie. Good thing she wasn’t here to witness this.

Dean’s eyes took on a feral hue. “Kinda wish, though, I’d ganked that British bitch when I had the chance.”

Sam huffed out a laugh. “I’m glad you didn’t. This way, she can’t deny that we’re _So. Much. Better_.”

Dean snorted at his imitation of Toni’s posh accent and shook his head like an affronted pony. “Man, it’s like freakin’ Bela all over again.”

Heat rose in Sam’s cheeks. _You have no idea_. Thankfully, Dean didn’t notice, his eyes lowered to the bottle in his hands.

Sam studied his profile, letting Dean’s familiar features ground him in the here and now. From this angle, the shadows around his eyes and jaw were more pronounced, making him look old and unapproachable. _Like Dad_ , Sam thought involuntarily. He wondered if Mom saw the likeness too.

“Jeez!” Sam almost leapt out of his skin when Dean suddenly tilted his head back to look at him.

Frowning, Dean asked, “You sure you’re okay?” Whatever likeness to Dad Sam had detected a moment ago had disappeared without a trace.

“Sorry, you just…startled me. It’s been a rough couple of days.”

“But Cas fixed you up nice and proper, right?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry about it.” Sam knew he didn’t need to point out to Dean that angel mojo could only fix so much. The rest, that’s what booze, hunting and sleeping pills were for. He forced a smirk. “I don’t need two people mothering me now.”

A flash of something passed over Dean’s face, gone to quickly for Sam to identify it. Sam blinked and reached out to steady himself on the worktop. He felt like his mind was playing tricks on him, again. Mom’s arms around him had felt so comforting, so familiar, filling a hole in his chest he’d barely been aware of. Yet Dean might as well be a stranger who’d broken into their home.

And raided their fridge for beer. Just like that time in Stanford, before—. Before.

Sam wondered what exactly Dean had told their mom. It didn’t seem like he’d mentioned Jess.

“Hey, uhm, Sammy…” Dean picked at the label of his beer. “I’ve been thinking. When I came back from Hell and from Purgatory, you…I just…” Dean clumsily gestured with his free hand. “Thanks.”

“Uh—what?” Sam replayed Dean’s words in his head to make sure he’d heard right. What was Dean thanking him for—Ruby? Amelia? Not damn likely.

Dean’s fingers clenched around the bottle. “Baby.”

Even without the aid of verbs Sam now picked up Dean’s train of thought. “It’s your car.”

“You thought she was yours.”

“It’s your car,” Sam repeated.

“Still,” Dean said, shredding the corner of the label he’d peeled off between his digit and thumb. “Thanks.”

Sam crouched down next to his brother so fast his joints protested, magical angel cure or not. “Dean.” He let his hand hover over his brother’s shoulder. “What’s going on?”

Dean squinted at him from underneath his lashes. “Nothin’.” His voice was a muddy trail Sam hesitated to follow. He set down his bottle with a hollow clunk.

Tracking the movement with his eyes, Sam spotted the small stack of photographs lying abandoned next to his brother’s hip. On the top Bobby stared gruffly back at him, standing in the middle between him and Dean, behind them the gray mess of Bobby’s junkyard. Sam had forgotten who’d taken the picture. Rufus? Jody? He’d have to ask Dean about it. But not tonight.

“It’s weird, I get it,” he said instead, nudging Dean playfully with his knee. “But, weird’s kinda what we excel at in this family, right?”

“Damn straight.” Dean smiled at him with the brittle finality of a collapsing bridge. “I just…I’m so happy I can hardly stand it. It’s like being back in the Djinn dream, and this time I get to stay.”

“No, this time it’s real, and you’re not bleeding out somewhere,” Sam corrected him. He hadn’t thought of the Djinn hunt in a long time. Dean had never mentioned it again afterwards. But Sam had sometimes recalled the heartbroken look on his brother’s face when he’d confessed, _I wanted to stay so bad_ , and wondered. Wondered.

Dean wiped a hand across his mouth. “God, I miss Dad,” he blurted out.

Sam blinked. If this conversation went on much longer, Dean was going to give him whiplash with his non sequiturs.

“He’s in a better place,” he said, not knowing what else to say.

Dean laughed humorlessly. “Like Mom was, you mean? Or you, before I dragged you back? I dragged you all back, didn’t I…”

Finally, Sam understood. He sighed with equal parts sadness and relief. So this was what it was all about.

“Dean, look at me.” Sam framed his brother’s face in his hands, felt him flinch against his skin. “I know you don’t want to believe it, but you deserve good things. We all do.” He took a deep breath. “So please, _please_ , don’t beat yourself up over it?”

Dean brought up his hands to cover Sam’s and slowly pried them off his face. “No, Mom, I won’t.” He gave Sam’s fingers a gentle squeeze before releasing them. “Don’t worry about that.”

In one fluid motion, he rose to his feet. Numbly, Sam watched him collect the empty bottles and throw them into the trash. Then he strode out into the hallway.

“Night, Sammy,” he called out, already half out of sight.

As he leveraged himself to his feet, Sam noticed that Dean had left behind his pictures. Carefully, he picked them up. A younger version of Dean peered at him on Bobby’s left, unreadable soldier’s mask firmly in place.

Sam looked up at the doorway Dean had disappeared through, then back down at the photos, and felt like he’d understood nothing at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Feedback is love.
> 
> You can also talk to me here: [LJ](http://frozen-delight.livejournal.com/) | [Tumblr](http://frozen-delight.tumblr.com/)


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